


Booze, Sex, Violence (or, Coping Mechanisms)

by Filmsterr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Castiel, Emotional Dean, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Sam Ships It, broken trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8766892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: Dean Winchester was not known for having the healthiest coping mechanisms. And with his history, coping mechanisms were called up to bat a LOT. Liquor, women, violence: these were the tools at his disposal (along with a strange preference for cartoon pornography). It's what had worked, and it was what he planned to use to get through the muck of life until he eventually bit the dust....and then Castiel happened.





	

Dean Winchester was not known for having the healthiest coping mechanisms. And with his history, coping mechanisms were called up to bat a **_lot_**. 

Liquor, women, violence: these were the tools at his disposal (along with a strange preference for cartoon pornography). It's what had worked, and it was what he planned to use to get through the muck of life until he eventually bit the dust. 

And then Castiel happened. 

Very, very fucking slowly; but it happened. They happened. 

A few long battles, and a lot of shared looks, and then- one day, at long last- a big embrace that started off as starved and sweet and ended up with Sam having to turn his back and cough loudly. 

After that, there was a lot less liquor, and there were no more women. Only shared beds, and little half-curled smiles, and breakfast and coffee in the bunker and everyone-- all three of them-- were so much happier.

 

* * *

 

Sam found out before Cas did. That was better, probably. 

He was the one who'd found them in the hotel: Dean and the girl. Some waitress they had interview a few days before-- or maybe she was a nurse? It didn't matter. Dean was so smashed he could barely stand. He was giggling to himself when he saw Sam. The girl looked ashamed, embarassed. 

Sam had spoken just a single word, and Dean's whole face darkened like the sky before a storm. 

And then Cas showed up.

And when he realized what was happening... oh boy. He looked like a lot of things. You'd think he'd be pained, torn apart. But instead... well, he looked sort of like his old self. Like Soldier of Heaven Cas, like he had the wrath of God in him and he was ready to use it. 

Sam was half-scared he would smite Dean right then. He wanted to, that's for damn sure.

"Cas..." Dean said, a little wary, a little desperate. 

The angel said nothing. His fists balled up at his sides, and the trench coat flapped in the wind. The door was still wide open behind Sam. No one moved to close it. 

Castiel muttered someting low to himself in Enochian. Sam doubted it fell into the category of sweet nothings. 

And then he was gone. 

"Cas?" Dean asked weakly to an empty room. Beside him, the girl looked freaked. Her eyes were wide and she tried to ask where 'that guy' had gone. 

It looked like Dean had forgotten she was there at all until then. He turned to her, coldly, and told her to get the hell out. 

It wasn't his best moment. 

As she passed him, Sam almost wanted to say something to her. Did she know about Cas before? Was she equally to blame for the angel's crushed heart? He decided to stay quiet.

Dean was sitting up in bed and he kept saying, "Cas. Castiel. Please come back. Just listen-- I.."

Sam didn't know what to do. He felt angry and let down and hurt, too. He backed slowly out of the room, closing the door as he retreated into the parking lot, leaving Dean to deal with the mess he'd made all on his own.

 

* * *

 

Dean prayed to Cas on a twenty-four hour loop for the next few days. Sam knew, because a couple of days after they had gotten back to the bunker (" _we have to go back, Sammy. What if he goes home and we're not there?"_ ) he appeared in Sam's room with a message. 

"Tell your brother," he growled in a low tone, "that if he does not decease his insessant prayer I will be forced to do something I would rather not do."

"Cas." Sam sat up quickly, ignoring the ominous warning. "Are you okay? Where have you been?"

The angel lowered his eyes in a glower that served as a response on its own. 

"Sam. Please understand that I bear you no ill will. But it is highly possible, due solely to the actions of your brother, that I may need to distance myself from you. From this place."

"I underst--"

The room was empty again before Sam could even finish. 

 

* * *

 

"Cas stopped by my room." 

Dean halted the glass of clear, brown liquid where it was on its path to his lips. Liquor had been very much back in the cards over the last few days. In fact, it was more than Sam had seen Dean consume in a long time. 

"Well?" Dean questioned tensely. "What did he say? Did he hear me? Is he coming home?"

Sam winced at the desperation in his tone. "He-- er, he said to tell you to shut up."

"What?"

"Yeah. He pretty much, uh, told me that if you don't stop he's gonna have to resort to some... bad shit." 

Dean was crushed. His face fell like he'd just been crushed under a wave of depression. Sam grimaced. 

"Dude...." he started, not sure where he was going with the thought. But, to be honest, he was a little pissed at Dean, too. Cas was his family too, Sam's, and when Dean took that girl home he'd driven the angel away from the _both_ of them. 

"I mean, what did you think was gonna happen? You thought he wouldn't catch you?" He laughed sardonically. "He's practically omnitient. Can't hide much from the guy."

Suddenly, Dean's sadness transformed into anger. "I know that, asshole."

"Well, then?" Sam raised his eyebrows high on his face. "And don't give me any bullshit about being too wasted. I highly doubt that girl was the one coming onto _you_."

Dean sat silently, glaring at the now-empty glass in his hands. He drew up his haunches as if preparing for battle. Sam leaned back and crossed his arms, waiting for the reply. 

"I just... I got freaked, you know?" Dean said at last, and all traces of heat were gone from his voice. 

"What, why?"

"Cas, he just..." Dean paused, shook his head sadly and rested the glass on the table in front of him. "He's so good, y'know? And I know he's fucked up too, and fucked up bad. But now, he's just so.... like with the bees, and shit."

He shifted in his chair. "And then he just kept saying all this stuff, over and over--"

"What the hell could he possibly have said to you? The only things I ever hear him say lately is that he loves you--"

"Yes! That one!"

The outburst caught Sam off guard. He spluttered a bit. His brow furrowed. "It bothers you that he says he loves you?"

Dean stared incredulously across the table. "Sam."

Sam stared back, both a question and a challenge, until Dean finally turned toward him and went on. "What happens to the people I care about? That.... that care about me?"

Realization dawned slowly on Sam as Dean's voice droned on next to him.

"Mom. Dad." He started slowly, building speed as the list grew longer. "Pastor Jim. Bobby. Jo. Ellen. Charlie. Kevin--"

"I get it," Sam put a hand in his face. "You can stop now."

"So, you know," Dean stood up and walked across the room to refill his glass. "I couldn't... I just can't."

"Surely you must realize there are more productive ways to deal with this."

Dean spun around. "Yeah, fuckin' obviously, Sammy. When I'm sober... it's easier then. When I'm with him--"

He seemed to remember himself suddenly.  He dragged a hand down the front of his face and sighed. "Why am I even telling you all this?"

Sam supplied him the answer like the obvious thing it was. "Because you miss him."

Dean sucked down his drink and began to pour another. 

"Because you want to fix this," Sam went on. 

On the other side of the room, Dean stilled. Then, just a hair above a whisper, he said, "Yeah, I do."

A heavy silence blanketed the room. A thousand words sat thick on Sam's tongue. It wasn't easy for him: watching his brother struggle like this. Not that it made it any easier to forgive what he'd done, but. 

He was just about to open his mouth again, when a subtle noise arose from the doorway. A light flapping in the wind.

Sam watched the expression on Dean's face go through several changes. First his jaw dropped, then sadness that stretched the edges of his eyes, and then the whole face set into a hard mask.

Castiel stepped into the room, looking like his face was made of steel. A long moment passed where no one moved. Sam, for one, felt paralyzed.

Finally, Cas spoke up. "Hello, Sam," he said with a hint of fondness. And in a different tone, "Dean."

The mood in the room made it apparent that there was exactly one too many people present. It was clear that there was going to be a conversation which was more intimate than Sam was allowed to hear. But still, Castiel made a point to say (never taking his eyes from Dean), "Sam, I need to speak to Dean. I would appreciate if you--" 

"I'm gone," Sam cut in, already on his feet and backing out the door (not that either of those two were paying him any attention). He retreated into the hallway, fully intending to seclude himself in his room until they had everything settled between them. 

However, he found his feet sticking in their place.

Dean was the first one to speak. "Cas. I... I am so--"

"I know, Dean," Cas said. Footsteps on the ground, soft. "You're sorry. Please, don't say it again. It only... upsets me."

Dean had no response for that. The glass he had been drinking from clattered loudly. Sam thought maybe he'd put it away, tried to hide the evidence from Cas.  

(When is he going to learn that you can't hide anything from an angel?)

"I... miss you, man."

Castiel made a sad little sound. "I feel the same, Dean."

A long moment of silence followed that. For a second, Sam thought that maybe that was the end of it: either Cas was gone, or the two of them had rushed into each others' arms; and either way Sam thought it was time for him to adjourn to his bedroom. 

But then Castiel spoke again. "I am also very angry, and deeply hurt by what you did."

 _Oof_.

Sam could imagine how Dean looked at that. 

Cas didn't give him much time to respond. "I heard what you said to Sam," he said. 

"I know you did." Dean sounded a little puffed up, over-confident. "And you should be running from here as fast as you can."

 "Dean," said Cas in a grave voice. "I have no need to run. I have wings."

" _Cas_." Dean sounded exasperated. 

"In any case," the angel continued, seemingly unperturbed by Dean. "You don't need to worry about me or my safety."

Sam heard Dean scoff derisively and he could picture the accompanying eyeroll exactly. 

"I am an angel, Dean. It is much more difficult to kill me than a human."

"You've died three times already!"

"Yes, and I've come back three times as well. God is watching over me."

"You can't count on that! And-- that's not it."

Sam didn't need to peak around the corner to know that Cas was squinting his eyes curiously at that thought. 

"You were still gone. For months, and that was fucking hard, Cas. It was hard on me." 

Only the sound of heavy breathing filled the air. After a moment, Dean murmured quietly, "I barely made it through that." 

"So you turned to alcohol to numb the pain."

"Yeah. Booze, and..." 

"Yes, women. Sex." 

They both sounded so... sad. It practically broke Sam's heart.

Okay, now it was really time for Sam to take his leave. He had just turned down the hall when he heard the shuffling sound of footsteps, edging their way further into the room. 

"It's not all your responsibility."

"Cas--"

"It is not your decision whether or not I place myself in the line of fire. And if I am willing to risk--"

"Cas, you don't--"

" _If I_ am willing to risk that, you cannot stop me. You can simply choose to be by my side in the fight, or to continue on your own. Drunk, sad, and stumbling through life."

 _Jesus_ , Cas. Cut him right to the core, why don't you. 

Sam felt for his brother right then, felt sympathetic in a way he hadn't since the whole thing went down. Dean had always taken this whole protector shit too seriously... 

Hitched breath caught in the air. Sam paused. Shit, shit, _shit_. Dean was crying. 

Sam hadn't seen his brother cry since... since he came back from Hell. 

That was it. Now Sam really had to leave. Had to leave them alone, to sort out this thing without prying ears listening them in. 

He pattered off down the hall before he had a second to look back. Sure, the curiosity was eating at him. But he figured that either way he'd see how it all played out soon enough. 

He waited what he thought was a decent amount of time. He tried to find distraction, pretended to read for a bit all while pulling his hair with anticipation. 

The question that sat at the end of it all: Would Cas be gone from their lives forever?

Finally, Sam couldn't stand it any longer. He had to check on them. He needed answers. 

So he leapt up and threw his door open, making his way down the hall with measured footsteps. When he returned to the library, he... well.

Dean and Cas were together. On the couch, Dean leaning his full weight onto the angel. He was asleep; exhausted from what was nothing short of an enotional purge, Sam was sure. 

Castiel was awake. He was crumbled around Dean, his arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, lips pressed into his hair. 

Sam stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of the two of them so at peace with each other. When Castiel noticed him, he opened his blue eyes wide and curled his mouth into something of a smile.

There wasn't anything to say, so Sam didn't. He raised his hand in a little wave and left the two of them be. 

When he reached the kitchen, Sam went right to the liquor cabinet. It had been freshly stocked a few days ago, now it was down to nearly half of what it had been. 

Sam took every bottle in there and brought them out to the trash in the garage. It was nice to have stuff in the house, but sometimes it could be dangerous too. 

He had the distinct thought (and hope) that they wouldn't be needing any of this for a good, long time.

 

* * *

 

(It was a while before they worked a case after that, and when they did, it was a pretty open-and-shut job. Still, Sam had to try very hard not to be annoyed at all the googley eyes they made at each other, or the little giggles they couldn't hold back when they were _supposed_ to be helping to question witnesses. And there was at least one stakeout when he _knows_ that they were making out in the car while he was hard at work researching. But, yeah, okay. They were all a lot happier now.)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't intend to make this a Sam POV, but welp that's how it turned out. Anyway, Destiel's always more fun when it's got everyone involved. 
> 
> As always, honest comments abd feedback are always deeply appreciated (:


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